


the undone and the divine

by orphan_account



Category: Dishonored (Video Game)
Genre: Claiming, Dom/sub, M/M, Ownership, Past Corvo/Jessamine, Tentacle Sex, Xeno, gratuitous glowing jizz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-09
Updated: 2015-03-09
Packaged: 2018-03-17 03:43:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3514103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’re thinking,” the Outsider says. His hand still rests at Corvo’s belt. “Unpleasant thoughts. Put them away.”</p><p>Corvo focuses on the god’s face again, on his depthless dark eyes. The Outsider is nothing like Jessamine, but he thinks that, probably, the Outsider could be good to him.</p><p>And he wants to be good for the Outsider, but that’s a thought he can’t afford to dwell on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the undone and the divine

**Author's Note:**

> This fic features a trans guy--Corvo--receiving and enjoying penetrative sex. If you would not enjoy that or would find it triggering, please hit the back button now. (Additional disclaimer: this fic is not meant to make any claims about what all trans men are into or comfortable with.)
> 
> Also, if you are highly sensitive to rapey / noncon dynamics, you may want to give this one a pass. While the sex in this fic is consensual, it has some potentially uncomfortable overtones.
> 
> Okay, warnings over. Let's get to the depraved tentacle porn.

“Tell me, Corvo,” the Outsider says, casual as you please, “would you consider taking a god to your bed?”

Corvo blinks. He’s learned to expect the unexpected from the Outsider, but that hadn’t covered this.

He doesn’t—the last person to touch him was Jessamine, and before that was his first. He doesn’t let people do this. But the Outsider isn’t _people,_ and if anyone is capable of understanding that Corvo is a man regardless of his parts, it certainly is the Outsider. (Corvo has the uncomfortable feeling that the Outsider has already seen his entire body, tempered by the knowledge that if so, the Outsider still calls him a man.)

(They did nothing of the sort in Coldridge. If it had been less than six months, maybe he could have stayed hidden.)

“You’re thinking,” the Outsider says. His hand still rests at Corvo’s belt. “Unpleasant thoughts. Put them away.”

Corvo focuses on the god’s face again, on his depthless dark eyes. The Outsider is nothing like Jessamine, but he thinks that, probably, the Outsider could be good to him.

And he wants to be good for the Outsider, but that’s a thought he can’t afford to dwell on.

The Outsider’s slim fingers curve around the back of his waist. “My dear Corvo,” he says. His breath smells of salt and smoke. “I want you to have this. Show me this. Show me your devotion.”

Corvo’s face burns. “I’m not devoted to you,” he says automatically, but the Outsider chuckles.

“You wear my mark so well,” he says, as if Corvo had said nothing. “Such a good show. Such bravery and cunning, such pain and thirst for vengeance.” His gloved fingertips have somehow gone right through Corvo’s coat, through his bindings, to glide along the path of his spine. The back of Corvo’s left hand tingles.

“And if I decline to put on this particular show?” Corvo says, trying for irritation.

The Outsider’s smile gleams like a crescent moon, like a fishhook. “Why would you?” He presses closer, strokes Corvo’s cheek with velvet-soft leather.

“Because you’re annoying,” Corvo says. Heat twists in his gut, tightens his thighs. “Because you’re a demanding, jumped-up hagfish and if you wanted to watch humans fuck, you could go spy on the Golden Cat—”

The Outsider settles a gloved hand around Corvo’s throat and squeezes gently. Corvo manages not to cry out, but he shudders and he knows, _knows_ the Outsider felt it.

“You’re not going to say no,” the Outsider breathes, “because you like belonging to me. You like your masters to take what’s theirs, don’t you, Corvo?”

He can’t respond. He can’t breathe—not because the Outsider is choking him, no, he’s being very delicate—but because all he can think of is Jessamine’s strong hands on him, of sobbing out _yours_ in half a hundred different rooms, in every season of the year.

“You’re a tricky little puzzle, Corvo Attano, but I think I have this part unlocked,” says the Outsider smugly. “You are mine, are you not?” He stares at Corvo.

Corvo can’t quite bring himself to respond, not with Jessamine so fresh in his mind.

“You are always hers,” the Outsider soothes. “I see her imprinted in your soul like shrapnel in a wound, my dear. Now show me what you give to those who own you.”

He’s still so close, and Corvo’s entire body seems to vibrate with skin-hunger. The Mark throbs, and his cock aches, and he’s so wet he can feel himself swollen.

“You are mine, aren’t you,” the Outsider prompts.

Corvo shuts his eyes and leans forward. “I’m yours,” he says. His voice cracks like a boy’s.

The Outsider draws a long, shuddering breath and surges forward to enfold him.

It doesn’t feel like a human embrace, exactly; while Corvo’s eyes are closed, the Outsider’s form seems to shift. Whatever he may be becoming, he is strong and solid and burns hot, like a hearthfire in winter. Too hot, as if he’s tried to make himself warm like a human and muffed it.

But the Outsider’s hand on his jaw feels exactly like any man’s, and his kiss feels like a kiss, and Corvo opens for his tongue immediately. Being touched is ruining him; his hips shift, seeking purchase. He aches, in the inside places he doesn’t like to think about.

 _Yes._ The Outsider’s voice rings in his mind, even as the Outsider’s soft lips and sharp teeth press against his own mouth. _Oh, yes. All that delicious need…_

Corvo makes a noise into the Outsider’s mouth that probably isn’t a squeak. Strong hands smooth down his back, warm, tracing his scars.

 _Such a good worshiper. Your service means more to me than any prayer._ The Outsider laughs, nuzzles behind his jaw, licks at his throat.

Corvo tips his head back and clings as the Outsider bites into his neck. The pain hits him in a blinding rush, then subsides into sensitivity.

“Fuck,” he says. “Oh, fuck, _stop_ it…”

The Outsider doesn’t stop, because Corvo didn’t mean it, and he rips at his shoulders as Corvo squirms helplessly in his grip. He doesn’t remember pain feeling this good. He doesn’t remember ever feeling so… open, practically liquid below the waist.

He opens his eyes. The Outsider smiles with sharp teeth and gives him a little wave. His grip doesn’t slacken in the least; he and Corvo float in the Void, in the mist with the shadows of lost things.

Corvo is about to make some comment on their location when the Outsider grabs his hair and pulls.

“Ah!”

He curls toward the god, hips pressing down. He can feel suppressed words start to bubble in his chest, things like _please._

The Outsider obligingly slides his thigh between Corvo’s and keeps biting him. With his eyes open, Corvo sees crescents of bloody toothmarks appear and disappear in seconds, healing as the Outsider leaves them. The pain is stinging and bright, like cuts always are, and he gasps with it.

The Outsider lifts his head suddenly, mouth bloody from biting and flushed from kissing. “Eager, my dear?” he says, and digs his fingers into Corvo’s hip, holding him still. Corvo hadn’t realized how hard he was grinding against the Outsider.

Eyes lidded, the god leans even closer and breathes, “How will you show me proper reverence?” There’s more than a hint of a smirk on his face, damnably.

“Don’t make me choose,” Corvo manages. “Are you mad? I can’t fucking _think.”_ The Outsider yanks his hair again and he cries out gladly.

“Behave, Corvo.”

Corvo wants to tell him that he will, but he’s pulling his hair again and it’s awfully hard to do anything, much less talk.

The Outsider’s smooth voice runs on in his ears: “—make you pleasure me, my dear one, I don’t think you’d mind if it scared you.” He shakes him. “Hmm?”

Corvo nods, dazed. He’s definitely naked now, with the exception of his chest bindings—that’s a relief, he’s never liked to take them off for sex—and he sort of wonders how the Outsider might know that. Decides not to wonder.

The fabric of the Outsider’s pants is rough against his bare skin, and their seams snag the hairs on his thighs. The Outsider gestures, though, and then it’s skin against supernaturally sleek, hot skin.

When Corvo looks down between them, he can’t quite tell what he’s seeing. He sees his own brown legs tangled with the Outsider’s white ones, and there’s a twist of dark hair, and—well, the Outsider has _something_ between his legs, but Corvo’s eyes slide off it, and his brain presents him with a tangle of sense impressions instead of a visual: salt tang, heat, sliding friction, sweat and musk.

Corvo has just enough presence of mind to assume that something strange is going on there, and then the Outsider gathers him close for more bruising kisses, and digs his fingernails into Corvo’s waist, and then he isn’t thinking. He clings, feeling small and helpless, and rocks his hips against the god’s. Fits his legs around the Outsider’s hips and hears the voice in his mind growling in satisfaction.

It’s getting harder not to talk; truthfully, the only reason Corvo isn’t babbling is that he doesn’t have quite enough brain left for it. He’s so wet. He’s so wet it’s starting to smear across his thighs, and he feels like his cock could scratch glass, and the Outsider’s arousal presses up against him, cruelly teasing.

 _Corvo, look at you._ The Outsider cages him in, all hunger. Hand between Corvo’s thighs. _Oh, look at you. Terror of a city, but your only wish is to be mounted like the loyal little hound you are._ Fingers curl up into him; he feels his mouth fall open, panting. _When I talk about you like that, it gets worse, doesn’t it? Senseless. Greedy. Mine. And you aren’t like this for just anyone._

He whines. The Outsider pulls his hand away. Something holds Corvo’s legs open, his arms behind his back. Tangles in his hair and pulls until he cries out weakly. He can’t tell if his eyes are open or closed anymore; either way he would see the Outsider floating before him, naked and grinning and terrifying.

 _Beautiful._ The Outsider strokes his face, pets his lips until he opens his jaws, pushes his fingers into Corvo’s mouth. Fucks his mouth for a few long strokes and then pulls away.

“Please,” Corvo says.

“Are you sure?” the Outsider asks, a parody of concern.

“Oh, please,” he says, and he struggles to get closer. “I—” Long habit keeps him quiet. He’s never been able to talk as much as he wanted.

“There’s no one to hide from here,” the Outsider tells him, “no reason to save face.” His hand falls between Corvo’s legs again, brushing lightly over him, from the root of his clit to the back of his cunt.

Corvo shakes. He thinks his heart might burst before the Outsider ever lets him come. “I need you to touch me,” he whispers, heartbeat heavy in his face. “Whatever you want. Please.”

“Whatever I want?” says the Outsider, tilting his head.

“You know I can’t refuse you,” Corvo tells him.

The Outsider strokes the back of Corvo’s hand, where the Mark is, and something flares inside him, setting him shivering. “Then beg me, sweetheart. Such a quiet man. Set that tongue free. All hidden desire is mine, and you know it. Speak.”

For a moment, he can’t. Then he catches his breath and says plainly, “Fuck me.” He can almost feel it in his imagination: spread open around the Outsider, pressure and friction like his fingers never gave him. “You—you must know no one’s ever— just with a strap-on—I think I’m going to die if you don’t, what did you do to me?”

He’s not lying. The ache in the center of his hips hurts, his cock pulses, he can’t keep his hips still. Animal need rises in his throat, and he lets it: whines for the Outsider, cries out ugly with want. The god answers in his mind with a laugh, and waits.

“You didn’t do anything,” Corvo confesses. “I know. It’s—ah, ah, it’s just me, this is just how I am—” He squeezes his muscles tight on nothing, shakes as he tries to pull his legs in against his restraints.

“More,” says the Outsider, curling silkily around his back. “Further.”

Corvo arches his back, pushes his ass out, trying to rub up on the Outsider’s cock. “I’m—I need this. I need you, please, I want to be more yours, more owned.” His voice is unrecognizable. “Oh god, fuck me. Just do it, fucking mount me, I’m yours, you know it, so yours— _oh god.”_

Something hot and hard presses against his cunt and he tries desperately to slam his hips down. He can’t move enough, though, and he ends up rubbing against the Outsider’s dick, teasing himself.

The Outsider growls. _Good boy._

“Oh my god,” Corvo slurs. His heart beats frighteningly hard, and he’s shaky and taut, on the edge but nowhere near actually coming. “You own me, please. Please. I’m good for you, I swear.”

 _And now you prove it,_ the Outsider tells him, and pushes deep into Corvo’s cunt.

Corvo’s never felt anything quite like it. Jessamine’s beloved strap-on didn’t have the warmth of living flesh, much less the burning eerie heat of the Outsider. And the Outsider sinks into him with a slick twisting motion, all boneless, effortless strength—

Oh. The Outsider doesn’t have human equipment. Of course. Corvo thinks this, and then he lets his head drop forward and just pants as the Outsider rocks into him. There’s a feeling there, cradled in his hips, tight pressure building where the Outsider coils himself. Tentacles. Of course. He’s being held and fucked in a whale god’s tentacles.

Perversely, his first emotion is awe. It must be keen and strong, because the Outsider accepts this tribute with a sigh of pleasure against Corvo’s ear. _That’s it, little one. Mine._

The stretch is just enough to add an edge of pain, and the Outsider fills him as deeply as he can manage. Corvo writhes into his motions, welcomes him in. Loses himself entirely, becomes shaped by the Outsider’s touches and thrusts and snarls of desire.

A sleek, wet coil of muscle pets at his ass, insinuates itself into his hole. Corvo sobs gratefully—he’s so full now, so fucking full, and the Outsider’s jolting his entire frail human body with his motions, forcing himself deeper and deeper.

The Outsider moans, in Corvo’s head and all around him, and the sound sends a narcotic rush of pleasure through him.

_Perfect. Such a wet and willing little sacrifice. Such a delectable treat, dear Corvo, you take so readily to my touch—_

Corvo loses time. The Outsider has him in a trance, practically, muscles slack. He rests in the Outsider’s arms like a toy, achingly close. The only thing anchoring him is the Outsider’s constant murmuring and throaty, bone-melting groans: _Good boy, Corvo, so good, such perfect yielding to me, such reverent pleasure, I can feel how close you are, reward you, such devotion—_

And then the Outsider tips him facedown and kicks his legs open wider and Corvo (suddenly facedown on the purple cloth covering a shrine) yelps as the angle of the Outsider’s tentacles shifts inside him. From there, it doesn’t take long.

His hips start to bruise from the force the Outsider puts into his thrusts; his back lights on fire as the Outsider claws at him. The tentacles pulse oddly, then thicken, then pulse, then thicken _more._

Corvo comes as the pressure builds to a sweet, unbearable peak.

His eyes definitely roll back. His vision’s gone. He shakes and gasps and locks up around the Outsider, and just as he starts to come down, he feels—

Fuller, and hotter inside, and _messy._ Something starts to patter onto the floor. The Outsider grabs at him, and Corvo understands.

The psychic backlash of the Outsider’s orgasm hits him a moment later: blistering human heat and willing submission, purple lights burning behind his/the Outsider’s eyes, resonating smug pleasure, tight shuddering satisfaction, marking.

Corvo falls out of the Outsider-vision and back into his own body, where he shivers and lies limply as the Outsider coils around him and keeps coming. He manages to look down between his own legs at some point.

 _Oh, Corvo, Corvo,_ croons the Outsider, voice rich with delight. Iridescent liquid drips down Corvo’s thighs, puddles on the floor. _Fill you, mark you, only one marked like this… Never let you go, mine, my little follower, initiate you like this._ His tentacles twitch and shudder, and Corvo whimpers.

“Too much,” he says hoarsely.

 _Not enough,_ says the Outsider. He smiles at Corvo, teeth longer and sharper than ever before. Shadows creep and curl up Corvo’s legs, around his arms. One encircles his throat, just snug enough to make his heart pound.

_Will you give me more? Does your loyalty go this far?_

His body aches; his cock buzzes with sensitivity. Corvo closes his eyes, feeling something like relief.

“Yes,” he says, and the Outsider descends on him and pulls him into the deep.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from "Bedroom Hymns" by Florence + The Machine.
> 
> ETA:  
> If you enjoy Outsider/Corvo tentacle sex, I highly recommend "Behaving As The Wind Behaves" by Smaragdina. Since I was inspired by it, it would be remiss of me not to give it a shoutout.


End file.
